


Lazy Sunday Kisses

by BekahRose



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Community: love bingo, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 21:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BekahRose/pseuds/BekahRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing beats a lazy Sunday morning, stretched out on the sofa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazy Sunday Kisses

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Shirtless Reading [fanart]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/769968) by [barbitone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbitone/pseuds/barbitone). 



> **Notes:** Was begun for my square 'Making Out', and was finished due to inspiration from [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/769968) beautiful piece of Fan Art. I've not had this beta'ed. So if anyone wants to tell me how it can be better, feel free. Wasn't going to post it, but am in a very self-critical mood, so... However, if I stare at it anymore, I'm going to completely stuff it up... 
> 
> As always, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, and flames are fed to Frank and Furter, my Fish.

** Lazy Sunday Kisses **

Arthur’s head is in his lap and both of them are in various states of undress with several text books spread around them and a pot of tea on the low coffee table in front of them; Merlin is never more content than he is in these moments. He lets his text book hit the floor beside him with a muffled thump before rubbing his eyes. “We need a footstool,” Merlin says, his tone somewhat dreamy as he runs his fingers through Arthur’s hair.

“Mm,” Arthur hums his agreement as he slowly turns a page in his text book.

Merlin shifts a little and smirks at the way Arthur’s brow furrows as his head is jostled, his hand moving to the bare chest in front of him, fingers gently dancing up and down along his sternum. “Read to me?” he asks, enjoying the way Arthur’s tongue peeks out from between full lips to moisten the tip of his finger before flipping another page.

“Hmm,” Arthur raises an eyebrow and begins to read from the text in his hand.

Merlin closes his eyes and lets the words wash over him, not really caring about the Second Punic War, but enjoying the way Arthur’s voice fills the small living area of their flat. As Merlin listens, his fingers begin drawing patterns across Arthur’s chest. He grins when the corner of his thumbnail catches the edge of Arthur’s nipple, making Arthur stumble over what he’s reading.

“Thought you wanted me to read to you?” He asks Merlin, letting his text fall forward, trapping Merlin’s hand against his chest.

“Read, make noise, don't really care.” Merlin answers softly, his head lolling back against the sofa cushions.

Arthur huffs a laugh and twists after setting his book on the floor. He shifts so he is lying across Merlin’s lap until he is face to face with black ink marking pale skin. Merlin rolls his eyes, he already knows what’s coming, but the brush of warm lips against his skin still sends a spark of electricity down his spine to settle low in his gut.

They sit like this for a while; Arthur gently worshiping the lower half of Merlin’s torso with barely-there touches and whispery kisses and Merlin’s hands mapping the planes and contours of Arthur’s chest and shoulders. Eventually, they wriggle around until they are both stretched out on the sofa.

Arthur’s grateful the sofa is as deep as it is, otherwise this would be more awkward and one of them (himself, most likely) would most likely have fallen onto the strip of carpet between here and the low coffee table. Merlin wriggles against him a little to get comfortable and a soft exhalation of air brushes Arthur’s cheek before their lips brush against each other.

It’s slow and easy and Merlin melts into it, wrapping his right arm around Arthur as best he can, holding him close. He loves Arthur, loves their home – though it’s small and pokey according to Arthur’s step-sister,- loves the excitement and passion and fire. These Sundays, where he and Arthur are cocooned in this space, wrapped in warmth and smelling of tea and soap and books just lazily kissing away the minutes.


End file.
